ith the upcoming release of Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith only days away, the nation’s piteous attention has turned to Iowa resident Mark Rubert, who has been waiting in line to see the third Star Wars prequel since 1977, an amazing 28 years.

“Has it really been that long?� asked a surprised Rubert, upon being reminded of his feat. “Man, I really gotta take a leak.�

After seeing the original Star Wars film nearly 30 years ago, which at the time just called Star Wars but is now known as Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope2K Special THX Limited Rastarized Edition, Rubert was so impressed he got right back in line and requested a ticket for a prequel. Told that no such movie existed, the former door-to-door salt salesman opted to stick around to ensure that he would be the first in line when prequel tickets went on sale.

Rupert waited in line outside the Mann Theater until 1987, when the theater was torn down and replaced with a Japanese restaurant. Thanks to mistaken customer complaints that there was “always a line� to get in, the restaurant folded in 1990 and was replaced in sequence with a nail salon, a party balloon store, and finally a check cashing service. The building Rubert is waiting in front of is now a discount tire store.

“I got kind of excited when I heard they might be putting a Wienerschnitzel in this spot back in ‘95,� admitted Rubert. “Because I’ve always been partial to sausaged meats. But then they put in a Chuck E. Cheese’s instead, which sucked. This tire store’s been way better, I hope it sticks around.�

To the surprise of many, this locally famous Star Wars nut has never seen any of the four other films in the series, neither the early 80’s sequels The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi or the recent prequels The Phantom Menace and Attack of the Clones.

“I don’t give a damn what happens after the first movie,� explained Rubert. “I just want to know what happened right before Star Wars started. Plus I didn’t want to lose my place in line.�

Many former friends and estranged family members expected Rubert to be excited about the release of the first Star Wars prequel in 1999, but to the surprise of all, he never went to see the movie. Calling filmmaker George Lucas’ decision to jump three stories back in time from four to one without telling part three first “total bullshit,� Rubert maintained his lonely vigil outside what was then a frozen yogurt stand.

When asked what he expected from the long awaited Revenge of the Sith, Rubert was refreshingly honest.

“To be honest with you, I don’t really remember much of the first movie, so I’ll be going into the prequel pretty fresh,� Rubert explained. “I mean, shit, that was almost 30 years ago. I remember something about a giant talking dog, so I hope he’s in this one too. Don’t ruin it for me if you know better.�

rand spanking-new pope Benedict XVI has surprised traditionalists this week not only by having the traditional pope throne in the Vatican replaced with an overstuffed Lay-Z-Boy recliner, but more significantly by calling for "Santo Subito," or "Immediate Sainthood" for his predecessor, the reportedly-deceased John Paul II.

Such a move would be a radical break from the Vatican's traditional 5-year waiting period between a pope's death and first chance at beatification, which is not as painful as it sounds. The waiting period has traditionally served as a time for the deceased pope's life and accomplishments to be put in perspective, to prevent voters from being swayed by the media circus surrounding the pope's death and the emotions of guilty voters who owed the pope money.

"Your Holiness, though I respect your desire to honor—could someone kindly shake the pope awake, please?" argued Cardinal Vincenzo Palati to snores of disagreement from a reclined pope.

Pope John Paul II himself bent the rules by sponsoring Mother Teresa for sainthood a mere two years after her death, with the explanation that he was tired of waiting to get his hands on the collectable "Saint Mother Teresa" bobblehead doll.

Some have questioned Benedict's motives, pointing out the possibility that he hopes to accelerate the trend, eventually allowing the pope to declare himself a saint before he even dies, getting around the ever-present problem of being a saint but being too dead to enjoy it. Critics point out the many powerful incentives for pulling off such a coup, including the generous saint discount available at buffets worldwide, and the ability to commandeer civilian vehicles on demand for saintly business.

For John Paul II to be beatified, supporters will have to provide evidence of saint-like miracles performed by his former eminence during his popehood. So far, this looks to be a large hurdle.

"The pope made meatballs one time, using grade D beef," reminisced cardinal and pope friend Arturo Bennini. "It was a miracle they turned out so good."

"Well, the pope blew his nose on my shirt once," explained an awed Victor Minelli. "And the stain looked kind of like cookie monster. You know the cookie monster? So that was kind of weird. A weird miracle."

"That man was a saint," claimed a rambling Cardinal Eustace Beeter, in a 45-minute speech that none could claim had a definable point. "Just good people, that pope."

Catholic statisticians, however, question the logic behind John Paul II being inducted to the Pope Hall of Fame at all, citing the former pope's poor career stats. 4,000 conversions are traditionally considered to be the benchmark for sainthood, though John Paul II supporters argue that the former pope's 2,805 were an artificially suppressed number due to injuries and the years that the pope served in the army.

"The three most similar popes to John Paul II, according to their statistics, are Hermes the Mauve, Jonas Ricardo Popino, and 'Steamboat' McGill," explained pious nerd Walter Bumrose. "Not exactly a stellar assemblage of popehood, to be honest. Those are some real bummer popes, most of them from the dark period in the church's history when they had cash flow problems and would let anyone be pope for a day as long as they kicked in enough cash and brought their own hat."

I have not actually been in prison, but I've spent a total of three years in county jails. I keep careful track of all my minutes spent behind bars, so I know this for sure. So I'd say I have a little bit of room to lecture on prison.

Don't think I'm some sort of pervert or nothing. I only go to county jail for crimes I didn't commit, like drunk driving. I don't even own a car, so pinning a drunk driving charge on me is ridiculous. I may have been driving, but it's not my car. That has to be some sort of technicality. Two times it was a bicycle. You can't call that driving. In any case all the vehicles get returned to their owners, and I even paid the gas money.

I suppose if I had to go to prison for some non-drunk bicycling charge, I wouldn't want it to be any of the usual crimes. Drug dealing is probably the major reason why people are behind bars. A lot of people going to prison probably want to be in there for murder, like that will get them a break from the rough guys on the inside. I'd rather go to prison for doing something nobody else can do, like strangling an endangered species. The last of them. Then when they ask me why I killed the last black condor with my bare hands, I can just tell them, "He knows why." Then they'll never find out I didn't have a reason at all, and just wanted to see my name in the newspaper.

Do prisoners still get to wear denim? I miss denim. Nowadays prisoners are seen in public in those fancy-pants orange jumpsuits like they're fashion queen of England or something, ooh-la-la! I bet they spend all day beating the shit out of each other in prisons. You see an outfit like that on a man, you just want to beat the shit out of him. Even if you're wearing it, too.

If I do go to prison, I'll bet it'll be for a crime I didn't commit. That's what mom always said, but I think that was just her way of threatening me so I'd remember to turn the lights off when I leave a room.

Being a fugitive would be the best. Take off running, hopefully in denim and not a jumpsuit, and then you got to try to make it to the county line, since the North doesn't have an extradition treaty with the South yet. I'd make it across the Mason-Nixon line and then just stand there and laugh all day and night. Unless they send someone after me like a good friend or best buddy—getting my best friend to hunt me down, that would be just like the cops. Except I don't have any friends really. So the joke's on them. But I bet my mom would volunteer for the job.

It would be nice being in a gang, if I went to prison. I don't see why gangs in prison would be any less picky than gangs on the outside, but if I got into a gang, that would be good for me. We could watch each others' backs and we could even work the kitchen. That's where the majority of contraband comes in through, says mom.

Even if they didn't let me in, I would start my own gang. At first nobody would want to join, but I have a never-ending supply of cookies coming in from the outside. I'm in good with the Girl Scouts. If I could get to work the sewing room, my crew and me, I would make jackets for all my gang. Who's not with me now? No jacket for you, G-Dollar.

I'm getting real excited about this prison thing now.

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